


The night is dark and full of terrors

by lola381pce



Series: Welcome to my nightmare [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Phil Coulson, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the relative safety of the Avengers Tower to the open plains of the New Mexico desert; on a mighty helicarrier or in a C-17 Globemaster, codename 'The Bus', nightmares can strike anyone at any time. It helps if there is someone who can help you through them and guide you to the other side. Phil Coulson is that someone and for Natasha, Pepper, Darcy, Maria, Melinda and Jemma he provides comfort in ways unique to each of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the writers of Game of Thrones for the brilliant phrase 'The night is dark and full of terrors' which works so well as a title for this series. There's no crossover with the show in this work so apologies to anyone who was looking for the families Stark, Lannister, Baratheon or Targaryen or anyone else from this mighty TV programme.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Widow was afraid of nothing – except the Red Room and the nightmares the memories of it triggered which sometimes forced their way into her dreams…

Coulson woke up suddenly.  He lay there in the darkness listening to the silence.  There was no noise but there was nothing peaceful about it; something was wrong.  Avengers Tower or not, he slipped his hand under his pillow and brought out his Glock 17, cocked a round into the chamber and got out of bed. Barefoot and dressed only in sleep shorts he didn’t consider stopping for anything else to wear as he investigated the source of his unease.

Soundlessly he opened the door to his bedroom and entered the passageway heading to Clint’s room first, gun pointing to the floor.  Clint was lying on his back one hand behind his head, the other arm and his legs spread wide like a starfish, snoring contentedly.  Coulson allowed himself a small smile and closed the door again.

Next he went to Natasha’s room where he saw the bed was empty the sheets crumpled and half on the floor.  He knew what he would find but he checked anyway.  He placed his hand on the bed, it was still warm but beginning to cool, damp with sweat.

Coulson left the empty room and paused once again in the passageway, more sensing than listening, then headed for the living area that the three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents shared in addition to the main common room for all the Avengers. A quick look would have told him there was no-one inside but Coulson was never one for a quick look. After a few seconds he saw what he was looking for.  Reflected in the window was Natasha as she looked out at the city-scape, her back against the arm of the couch her knees drawn up tight to her chin with her arms wrapped round them.

Coulson made safe his gun and without speaking walked carefully towards her making sure she could see him as he could see her. Once he drew even with her position he stopped by her shoulder within touching distance and waited.  After a few minutes her hand gently touched his foot so light he almost didn’t feel it.  He inched a little closer to her and she leaned her head against this thigh her cheek burning and damp against his skin.  He placed his hand on her head tenderly stroking her hair.

She touched his foot again and he looked down at her as she looked up at him.  Accepting her invitation, Coulson sat down next to her putting the gun on the floor beside him.  She slipped her hand into his and together, shoulder to shoulder, they silently watched the city until the sun came up chasing the last of the terrors away.


	2. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only two people (plus J.A.R.V.I.S.) knew the code to Pepper’s bedroom; Tony Stark (obviously) and Phil Coulson (interesting). It’s not that he used it often, just when she needed him…

It was 01:15hrs and Coulson was sitting at his desk in his suit trousers and shirt finishing off some paperwork.  He’d rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, removed his tie and undone the top two buttons to help him tackle it.   Eventually he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose shaking his head in despair at the quality of the paperwork from the new round of recruits. Really if they couldn’t tell the difference between a sentence and paragraph and why punctuation was critical for both then S.H.I.E.L.D. was in serious trouble.  Perhaps it was time to sic Barton and Romanoff on them.  Actually, perhaps not Barton; his paperwork wasn’t much better.

He paused and cocked his head to the side as though listening to something then stood up from the desk.  He left his bedroom walking quickly down the passageway heading towards the elevator.  When he reached it and the doors opened Coulson asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to take him to Stark’s suite.  J.A.R.V.I.S. of course obliged (he and Agent had a great respect for one another and often exchanged commiserations regarding looking after Tony Stark). Within a few moments he was in the penthouse. He headed towards the bedroom door and using the pass code Pepper had given him he entered just as she sat bolt upright on the bed, chest heaving with rapid breaths, tears streaming down her face.

In seconds Coulson closed the distance to the bed and sat down next to her whispering her name.  Pepper threw her arms round him and cried into his shirt. He held her, gently stroking her back and murmuring softly until the worst had passed; the racking sobs slowed to tears, the tears to whimpers and the whimpers to soft breaths against his chest. 

He toed off his shoes and lay back against the headboard pulling her towards him, resting his cheek on her head not releasing his hold of her.  He’d been through the nightmares with her before; her constant fears for Tony and of his imagined death, her terror of being chased by Obadiah Stane in his bastard version of the iron man suit and her abduction and torture by Aldrich Killian. 

He knew she’d eventually fall asleep against him.  He’d kiss her forehead and hold her until the morning.  He’d be gone when she woke up and although they wouldn’t speak of it, she’d touch him tenderly the next time she saw him and smile that beautiful smile.


	3. Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy was a force of nature; her breezy, quirky disposition had won over more than her fair share of scary people (including a certain S.H.I.E.L.D. Director with an eye patch). If not, her taser was always an option (Thor, twice, not to mention…well suffice to say it was a long list). For many it would be a surprise to learn that sleep for Darcy could be a problem especially when the nightmares set in…

Coulson had completed his final perimeter check of Puente Antiguo having taken particular care of the areas where Jane and Erik, along with Darcy, Jane’s somewhat acerbic intern of whom he was actually rather fond, worked and slept.  Actually when he thought about it Jane would probably happily work, sleep and eat in one place if not for Darcy and Erik dragging her to the diner when the Pop Tarts had diminished to an unsatisfactory level.

It had been 03:00hrs when he finally called it a night (morning) and as always, Jane had been working frantically at the boards in her office darting between them, her computer and the kitchen area being followed at a far more relaxed pace by Darcy as she replenished the coffee and toasted pastries at regular intervals or updated notes on the laptop.  Erik appeared to be asleep on the kitchen counter flat out and face down with his arms dangling over the sides; it looked like it had been and would continue to be a rough night. The agent on duty nodded to Coulson as he passed by.

Coulson radioed in to the other agents on his way to the motel for a few hours’ sleep who assured him all was well at their various locations throughout the town.  He entered his room, undressed, showered and pulled on sweat pants and his faded Army Ranger t-shirt, washed so many times it was soft and almost shapeless.  He flopped down on top of the bed and closed his eyes for a few minutes.  Just as he was dropping off his eyes flew open and he raced out of the door grabbing his running shoes, gun and keys on the way.

When Coulson drove into the town and passed by Jane’s workplace it looked like nothing much had changed other than a switch of shift for the agents.  Jane was still darting about like a hummingbird and Erik was still flaked out on the counter.

Of Darcy however there was no sign. Coulson frowned and headed immediately to her trailer. He parked up outside and was about to knock when he heard “No. No, please.  Please don’t bring in the clowns!” followed by a wail.  He wrenched open the door and dashed inside to see Darcy fighting the covers of her bed.

Carefully he walked over noting that she was still asleep. 

“Miss Lewis,” he said gently.  There was no response.

“Darcy.”

The flailing stopped and she sat upright still asleep.  “Phil?”

“Yes Darcy, it’s me.”

Eyes closed she smiled and sighed then lay back down and turned on her side patting the bed for him to join her.

He toed off his running shoes and climbed onto the bed putting his arms round her, spooning into her back.

“Clowns, Phil,” she told him in a sleepy voice.

“I know, Darcy.”

“Goddamn, sonofabitch Killer Klowns from Outer fucking Space.”

He stifled a chuckle knowing how much terror clowns held for her.

“I know, Darcy but I’m here now.”

“MMmm. S’good, Phil.  You’ll keep those motherfuckers away with your super awesome ninja skills, won’t you?”

“Yes Darcy.”

“Say it, Phil.”

“I’ll keep those motherfuckers away.” He promised her and kissed her head.

“With your super awesome ninja skills?”

“With my super awesome ninja skills.”


	4. Maria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deputy Director Hill was one of the strongest characters S.H.I.E.L.D. had, just as fearless on the bridge of the helicarrier as she was in the field making even Fury pause on occasion. Other agents were either in awe of her or shit scared but even the most resilient of people could be worn down by bad dreams…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an explicit version of this chapter where Phil and Maria...well do a lot more than explore scars and hug. I might post it another time if anyone should be interested.

Coulson was in the galley of the helicarrier reserved for the most senior agents making a coffee when he had the urge to make hot milk with cinnamon, nutmeg and, god help him, chilli powder.  It had to be done just right, the old fashioned way in a pan on top of the stove.  Task complete, and with mug in hand, he headed back towards the cabins.  He opened the door and was greeted by the click of a pistol being cocked.

He paused in the doorway.  “Maria? It’s Phil.”

“Phil’s dead.”

Oh-oh! It was _that_ nightmare.

“I was but now I’m back.”

“How do I know you’re not Loki?”

“Would Loki have brought you hot milk with cinnamon and nutmeg?”

“What else?”

“Chilli powder, you weirdo!”

There was the sound of the pistol being made safe and in the dim light he watched her put it on the shelf by her bunk.

“Put the milk down and come here.”

He did as instructed and padded over to the side of her bed.

Maria was on her knees facing him.  He could see that her sleep vest was soaked and her hair was damp.  It must have been a bad one.

“Take off your t-shirt.”

He hesitated but complied.

Her hand moved to his chest to feel the scar through the fine covering of hair and she released a tiny whimper.  He wanted to put his arms around her and hold her to him to comfort her, but didn’t; he understood she needed to make sure it was him first. 

She pulled the waist band of his sleep shorts down over his left hip and looked at the scar that ran along the bone then touched it gently.  He bit down on his lip, trying not to flinch as she examined him. She knew where all his scars came from but she had been there for that one. 

She reached up and tilted back his head examining another scar under his chin running along the jawbone.  She had been present for this one too; had to be really, she gave it to him. 

“Phil?”

“It’s me.”

And this time he did put his arms round her.  She rested her cheek against his chest breathing in his scent and returned the hug almost crushing him with her need to make sure he was really there.


	5. Melinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was someone that people would expect to suffer from nightmares it would be Agent Melinda May and they wouldn’t be wrong. After all she had experienced and all she had done how could she not…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea about Coulson, May and Sitwell being on a mission together somewhere in the UK. Coulson and May pull a prank on Sitwell which involves an 0898 sex chatline so this is why he used this technique to help her through her nightmare.

Coulson was finishing off some new recruit reports recommending additional training they would require if they were to go from cadet to junior agent. Others he was considering recommending as non-field agents: screaming and either a) running away b) throwing up or, on one memorable occasion c) wetting your pants when Barton leapt out of the ventilation shafts were not conducive to being a successful S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

A short time later he picked up his phone and dialled a number, one of many he had memorised.  Almost before it rang it was answered.  The person on the other end didn’t speak however and Coulson could sense the tension through the phone.

“Eh, hi. Is that 0898 Mistress Leather?”

No response.

“Okay.  The strong, silent type. I like that. So…what are you wearing?”

Still nothing.

“Shall I guess?”

Silence.

“You know, this really isn’t helpful for a sex chatline. But that’s fine. I’d like to guess. I think you’re wearing… hmmm…a purple Barney suit. That’s kinda hot.  Is it wrong I think that’s kinda hot?”

This time there was a sigh from the other end of the line.

He didn’t react but kept going. “Did you just breathe heavily?  Oh so you like that I think it’s hot that you’re wearing a purple Barney suit? That’s good. That’s very good.”

He looked at the pen he was holding. “Would you like to know what I have in my hand?” 

“A pen?” The voice was emotionless…

He stifled a laugh and continued to complete the paperwork he was working on.

“You know for a sex chatline you’re not very chatty, or to be honest very sexy.  Okay let’s say I have a _pen_ in my hand. Do you know what I’m doing with it?”

“Writing?” …followed by deadpan and sarcastic…

“Eh sure…we’ll call it writing. I’m writing while I’m thinking about you. I’m taking my pen in my hand, my big, thick pen” [it was a fountain pen so it was actually quite thick] “and I’m writing a really long report” [it was a report on the latest round of recruits so it was very detailed]. “I’m using big, broad strokes so that I can finish my report quickly but I don’t want to rush too much. Do you like that? Do you like that I take my time?”

“Sure”… and now sarcastic but finally there was a hint of amusement in the voice.

“I want enjoy writing my report” [which was true, everyone knew Coulson didn’t mind paperwork] “I like to end with a flourish, I like to...aw crap! It’s just gone off in my hand, all over the report.”  [Well fountain pens are notorious for leaking] “Aw! What a mess! Looks like I’ll have to start all over again after I clean up.”

Suddenly there was a snort of laughter on the phone.

“Phil, you’re an asshole.” And the line went dead.

He smiled and hung up then went back to his paperwork after mopping up the ink with a paper towel glad that he’d managed to extract a laugh from May.  He knew only too well what terrors Bahrain held for her and how badly the nightmares could tear her apart.


	6. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genius bio-chemist and rising star in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s research division with an amiable personality, Jemma has everything going for her. She never has any problems sleeping and certainly doesn’t suffer from nightmares; that is until she begins assignments in the field with two traumatic events in particular being the main catalyst when they do come…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to stop with chapter five but after reading a really great Coulson/Simmons work 'In the Garden' by Lachesisgrimm(olga_theodora) it made me think of Jemma and how Coulson would want to protect her from her nightmares so...

Coulson was sitting in the cockpit, arms crossed over his chest talking with May which proved occasionally she  _was_ sociable enough to allow someone in there with her as she piloted the Bus.  Actually he was doing most of the talking while she listened alternating between rolling her eyes, turning the corner of her mouth up with the ghost of a smile playing on her lips and huffing out a laugh depending where he got to in the story.

As the aircraft ate up the miles she ran checks on the onboard systems, flicking the occasional switch or glancing at dial readings making occasional tiny corrections to ensure the C-17 stayed true on its flight path.

Halfway through a sentence he stopped and frowned.

“Coulson?”

“Jemma,” he said by way of explanation and abruptly left the compartment. May knew better than to follow him for this. He didn’t require her assistance and Jemma wouldn’t want an audience.

He found her in the lab leaning against a glass wall panel with her legs crossed hands sitting loosely in her lap apparently staring straight ahead.  He stood watching her determining her state of mind when he saw her shoulders begin to shake and her head drop down onto her chest.  His heart wrenched at seeing someone so small and fragile in such obvious pain.

After a few moments he moved close enough for one of the door sensors to pick him up and slide open with a gentle swoosh.  As he entered the room Jemma sniffed and hastily wiped her eyes.

“Agent Coulson, sir.  What are you doing here?” she asked with a false cheerfulness.

“May I?” he asked indicating to the space on the floor opposite her.

She looked at it and frowned trying to process the fact that he was willing to sit on the floor wearing his suit. “Well I suppose…I mean…well…yes, yes of course.”

He sat down facing her consciously mimicking her pose.

Coulson didn’t speak again so Jemma filled in the silence with mindless chatter, her sentences running together until suddenly she stopped and let out a strangled sound somewhere between a hiccup and a sob.  The tears began to flow again and her head fell forward as she dropped her face into her hands.

“Jemma,” he said softly and raised his hand to place it on her head but he stopped short of doing so. Instead he moved position so that he was sitting behind her, his legs stretched out under her knees which now rested on his thighs.  Gently he wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him. 

She leaned back into his chest her hands still covering her face as she cried finally releasing the pent up emotions which she’d buried deep inside since she almost died of the Chitauri virus and the fall from the plane. She turned slightly so that her head was supported by his shoulder and gripped his forearm with both of her hands holding on to him as though her contact with him was the only thing in this world keeping her anchored to it. Her body shook with the force of her sobs her throat becoming raw from her screams.

Coulson clenched his eyes tight shut wishing with all his heart that he could take this pain away from her; it was agony for him to see her like this.  In reality all he could do was hold her for as long for as she needed him to. He would keep the terrors away for as along as he was able, even for a short while.

Eventually she cried herself out and her grip loosened on his arm as her body relaxed into his. She began to shiver and he tried to take his arm away. She tightened her grip again and whispered “No”.

“Just for a second, I promise.”

She hesitated then nodded and released him as he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it round her.  He went back to the same position as before but instead of holding her with both arms he used one hand to gently stroke her hair soothing her until she finally, breathing in his scent from his jacket, feeling safe in his arms, she fell into an exhausted sleep.


End file.
